


Jack Zimmermann's Shorts Collection

by mahons_ondine



Series: Jack and Bitty's Kinksploration! [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Clothing Kink, M/M, Scent Kink, Seriously this is filth, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7472322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahons_ondine/pseuds/mahons_ondine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the Extras about how all of Bitty's shorts seem to have migrated to Jack's house.  </p><p>I posted this on my tumblr and forgot to crosspost here! But then I was reminded by some lovely people liking and reblogging today!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack Zimmermann's Shorts Collection

**Author's Note:**

> I won't apologize for this filth! Enjoy it!
> 
> Still for the lovely [EllyAvon]().

He doesn’t mean for it to happen the first time. He’s just jerking off, minding his own business, and in effort to not be a huge slob he reaches over to grab one of his discarded shirts from the laundry, and grabs a pair of Bitty’s shorts instead. And it’s really not his fault, you know? Because it all just happened so fast. One minute he’s just sitting there having a casual wank thinking about Bitty, yeah, but kinda peripherally. And then he’s got a tiny pair of tight blue shorts that Jack knows look amazing in his hand, and he’s stroking the soft material and picturing them on–hugging the curve of Bitty’s ass, and ending at just the right place to accentuate how big his thigh muscles have gotten. And then Jack is coming, and without even thinking about it, well the shorts are right there in his hand and so he’s coming into them and stroking himself through the orgasm with them and gasping like a drowning man, and his vision is almost greyed out he feels so light headed. But like, it’s kinda a fluke. It isn’t a thing. 

 

It becomes a thing. He really doesn’t mean for it to happen, but Bitty keeps leaving shorts there and Jack keeps jerking off and it’s gotten a little bit ridiculous. I mean look, Jack’s a normal guy, he’s always jerked off. But every day? Sometimes twice a day? And with Bitty’s shorts? First it’s just coming on them. And then he’s using them to stroke himself. He tries putting them on, but he’s a lot bigger than Bitty and only the loosest ones fit. Even then they’re tight, filthy tight, squeezing his balls and pressing against his cock and they’re pressed between his cheeks and they’re rubbing, rubbing, rubbing against his hole. He cries when he comes that time. It feels like the orgasm is ripped right out of him, and it almost hurts. And then he cries again when he realizes he ripped the shorts sometime in his furious jerkoff session. Which is dumb, he’s aware, but he doesn’t want Bitty to know. And he doesn’t know what to do. Eventually he settles on denial, and vows not to wear the shorts again. 

 

And he doesn’t. But never let it be said he’s not creative. Sometimes he jerks off normally, or sometimes, right after Bitty goes back to Samwell, Jack likes to press his face into shorts that still smell like Bitty. One memorable time Bitty comes in his own shorts the last day he’s there and they’re still sticky and messy by the time Bitty leaves. They’re at the foot of the bed, and Jack has his pants off and his cock out and he’s braced over the bed, rutting against the shorts, and they’re chilly and a bit tacky but fuck they’re wet and slick and leaning over the bed like this is almost like he’s fucking Bitty, or maybe Bitty is fucking him and even though the pressure is weird and different he feels himself losing control in minutes. And then he can’t seem to stop, even though his cock is oversensitive, even though he had already come once before, it just feels so good that he gets past the pleasure-pain and all the way back to pleasure and he comes again before he can stop. 

 

It’s a little much actually. He’s got friction burns on his dick, and like, seriously? Is that even a thing? So yeah, next time, he thinks, next time I’ll be more careful. Next time, though, doesn’t come for over a week. They’re out of town on a roadie and Jack doesn’t like to take Bitty’s shorts with him because, well he isn’t looking to get caught, right? And besides, apparently his dick needs a little time to heal from his marathon frottage session. So he doesn’t jerk off at all. Not for 11 days. Which in old Jack Zimmerman time might not be a lot, but in new Jack Zimmerman, obsessed with Eric Bittle and his face and his ass and his goddamn shorts, time it’s kind of huge. So as you can imagine he isn’t really thinking about anything but getting off by the time he gets back to his apartment after his trip. Maybe it’s his libido finally reasserting itself after so many years of anxiety induced limpness, or maybe it’s just Bitty, but his cock is hard in his jeans for pretty much the entire ride from the airport. So yeah, he just wants to get on with it. No stopping, no passing go, no collecting two hundred dollars. 

 

And that’s how it happens. 

 

Jack walks in the door, drops his bags right in the foyer and practically sprints for the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to take his pants off, just slides them down his hips with his boxers and he has one pair of shorts against the bed for him to rub off against, and another pair that never made it into the laundry, smelling of sweat and shower gel and cinnamon and Bitty, pressed against his face. And fuck, but it’s even better than he remembered. And he’s half leaning against the bed, half perched on it, pants sliding off and he doesn’t care because it feels like Bitty and smells like Bitty and sounds like Bitty. He freezes. 

It sounds like Bitty. 

 

Or it did. Now he can only hear the rush of blood in his ears and his own breathing, and the soft sound of socked feet walking across the carpet to him. 

 

“Are those my shorts?” Bitty asks, carding his fingers through Jack’s hair. 

 

“Yes. Oh gosh,” and then he’s scrambling away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know what it must look like-” 

 

Jack tries to explain, he does, but Bitty is climbing on top of his and covering his mouth with his hand and his eyes are glittering and yes he’s bright red, but he doesn’t look angry. 

 

“Shh,” Bitty murmurs. “It’s ok, Jack. It’s ok. It’s sexy, alright? And next time if you just tell me then I’d be happy to try whatever you want, ok? I don’t think it’s weird–” 

 

So Jack shuts him up with a kiss. A long, filthy wet kiss that leaves them both gasping. But then Bitty is sliding off of him and laying on his back, eyeing the breathless Jack. 

 

“So it’s two pairs, was it? One to sniff and one to rub against.” 

 

Jack closes his eyes and nods, impossibly embarrassed. Surely Bitty is just being nice, he thinks, there’s no way he is ok with this. Bitty nudges his shoulder. 

 

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you? Jack Laurent Zimmerman you are a disaster. I said, that we could do better than that. Why don’t you come over here and put your head in my lap and show me how you jerk off, huh?” 

 

Jack shudders because, fuck, Bitty might actually be ok with this and oh my god he’s wearing the shorts, the first pair that made him basically walk into a wall. And his cock is hard in those shorts and Bitty has a beautiful cock, and Jack basically just wants to rub against him like an overenthusiastic puppy. So he does. He clambers across the bed and wraps one pair of shorts around his cock and then just pressed his face against Bitty. 

 

And it’s so good. Better than the shorts. Better than imagining it. Because Bitty is warm and he smells so good, and he makes these little whimpering noises when Jack presses his cheek against Bitty’s cock and he can feel his eyes glazed over. Jack knows he looks fucked out, and high as a kite and desperate, but Bitty is looking down at him like he wants to eat him and this is basically the hottest moment of his life. And then Bitty speaks. 

 

“Oh Jack. That’s so good. Come on, show me. I want to see you come, honey.” 

 

And the sound of his voice, the sound of his voice and the smell of his skin and the way Bitty is unabashedly rubbing his clothed cock against Jack’s face, well it’s all just a little too much. And Jack is groaning and coming and coming, soaking the tiny little shorts, and making a mess of them both. 

Bitty doesn’t seem to mind though, because he’s fumbling at his shorts, yanking them down and pulling out his cock before Jack is quite recovered. He doesn’t care though. He bats Bitty’s hands away and chokes down Bitty’s cock. Because it’s sexy. And it makes him feel warm inside. And he loves the challenge. And he doesn’t know how else to thank Bitty for yet another gift in the long list of gifts that come with knowing and loving Eric Bittle. So he nudges Bitty into fucking his throat and stares up at him, breathless, tears in his eyes, and so full of love for this boy who has taken everything, every last weird and uncomfortable and difficult thing about him, and made it into a joy instead of a burden. He doesn’t know quite how to say it, but Jack is pretty sure that Bitty knows. Because after he’s come down Jack’s throat with a strangled shout and they’ve shucked their clothes and curled up under the covers, Jack finally asks. 

 

“Were you here when I got here?” 

 

“Mmhm,” Bitty murmurs. “In the kitchen making you a pie.” 

 

“Shoot, do we need–” Jack tries to lurch out of bed, but Bitty drags him back down. 

 

“I hadn’t turned on the oven yet.” 

 

“But your ingredients–Bits. We can save them?” 

 

“No,” Bitty mumbles into his skin. “There will be other pies. I don’t mind.” 

 

Jack wraps his arms tight around Bitty and doesn’t let go. Not for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](www.mahons-ondine.tumblr.com)! And let me know there or in the comments what kind of kinky filth I should write next!


End file.
